How many times had innocents been slaughtered in Tarren Mill? How many times had he ridden over the hills of Hillsbrad and had to avoid the dead on the streets? Now though, there was no more bloodshed in those hills. Purified by the horrid deaths that comes from the blight.
On the other hand, he also remembered Saurfang the younger’s last cries. The battle at the Wrathgate would never be forgotten, and the Forsaken would likely never be forgiven.
He leaned forward again and rested his brow in his hands. By the Sunwell, what would Quen’thilis think of him now? She knew when Arthas’s armies came to Quel’thelas what battles must be fought, and she paid for it with her life.
“Dearest, I miss you so much.” He said to himself.
Above all else though, she knew balance. She could heal the wounds of the sword and axe as readily as she could use the light to flush the enemies from the darkness. If only he could have that same wisdom.
Granted, the Strike Lord and the other officers of the Strike Force saw merit in his plan. Still, regardless of rank, the responsibility still laid at least partially if not wholly on himself as to whether this single act of brutal destruction would come to pass.
All of this was just to end just a segment of this damnable war. Why did the Alliance have to be so damn foolish! Deathwing flies freely and yet the Alliance cause this much trouble!
The minutes turned to hours as he brooded in silence, but finally he regained focus, and the simple facts were boiled down by his intellect. The fate of the world required the demise of Deathwing. The Horde did not have the resources to defeat Deathwing while still fighting the Alliance. The Alliance was unable to be dealt with through diplomacy. Therefore they must be taken care of before the full force of the Horde could be directed at the twisted black dragon. The worgen were abominations in their own right, and of all the races needed to be dealt with the most quickly. Perhaps afterwards the Alliance would capitulate after such a showing of force. Gnomeregon is tainted enough without the threat of another blight bomb. Surely they would see reason after seeing such a threat.
So with a heavy heart, Tyranilis looked the parchment over. The single parchment would seal the fate of Gilneas. It gave the apothecaries the full ability to create the bomb and to use whatever resources were required. He picked up his quill and muttered softly “Light preserve us.” As he signed his name “Tyranilis Emberglow”